Journey Among the Stars: A Collection
by AsterEris
Summary: A collection of oneshots about the lives and deaths of a bunch of semiminor characters. First is Whitethroat, from kit to death, sort of abridged. You get to request one that you want. rated for graphic content blood and stuff
1. Whitethroat

**Whitethroat's Past:**

The tiny white kit looked like s splash of snow against the dark brown floor of the ShadowClan nursery. The kit's mother, Darkflower, was bent over her two sons, licking each one lovingly.

"They're beautiful kits, Darkflower," meowed Cinderfur, the father, staring at his sons proudly.

"The white kit looks very strong. I'm sure he'll make it through the winter," meowed Darkflower, an edge of uncertainty in her voice. "But the other…"

"They will both be fine. They will grow to be strong warriors of ShadowClan."

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It was one day in the middle of leaf-bare that Whitekit noticed his brother's absence. He was playing with Littlekit and Dawnkit, when he suddenly wondered where Frogkit had gone. Yesterday, when they were playing "Raggedstar versus Crookedstar," Whitekit had even let his brother be Raggedstar, because Darkflower had explained that he wasn't feeling well.

Now, Littlekit got to be Raggedstar, and he wasn't very good.

"I am Raggedstar. I am going to eat you!" the tiny tabby kit squealed, launching himself at Whitekit. White sidestepped slowly, watching as his friend sailed past. Dawnkit watched them tussle with calm eyes, and when asked, she would reply, "I am myself."

Finally, after a long time dodging Littlekit's clumsy attacks, Whitekit grew bored of being Crookedstar, and went to look for Frogkit.

What he found was very odd. His nose led him to the medicine cat's den, where Runningpaw and his mentor Tanwhisker were huddled together with his mother, Darkflower. A little ways away sat his father, Cinderfur, stony-faced and silent.

"What's going on?" mewed the tiny kit, scrabbling towards hi mother. "Where'd Frogkit go? I want him to play Raggedstar and Crookedstar with-"

"Hush," hissed his father coming forward and grabbing Whitekit by the scruff. "Frogkit is very sick. He can't play ever again.

"Never?" asked Whitekit, feeling a wide hole open in his stomach.

"Never. Now run along." Cinderfur nudged him back towards the nursery, while Whitekit felt that sinking feeling in his gut. Would Littlekit _always_ be Raggedstar now? Darkflower never let _him_ be Raggedstar so…Whitekit let out a mewl of horror.

"Where's Frogkit, Whitekit?" asked Dawnkit. Frogkit and she were best friends – nearly inseparable.

"He isn't ever coming back. Cinderfur said…not _ever_."

"Oh…" Dawnkit pondered this new development while Whitekit padded into the nursery, a strange feeling weighing on his heart.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Come, Whitepaw. Today I will show you the border," meowed Blackfoot, a young warrior who was now his mentor. Whitepaw glanced over his shoulder at Dawnpaw nodding to her mentor Tallpoppy, and Littlepaw staring in awe at Raggedstar, his leader and, now, mentor.

"I said come," hissed Blackfoot, but not in a mean way. He gently guided Whitepaw out of the camp.

A wave of new scents gushed over the white apprentice as he followed his mentor around their territory. Blackfoot explained the Carrionplace, the Twolegplace, and allowed him to sniff cautiously at the WindClan and ThunderClan borders, and raise his head to scent RiverClan.

When Whitepaw returned, his first prey swinging from his jaws, he was bone-weary and starving, but nothing could dampen his spirits. Being a warrior didn't seem so far away now!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Then let you be hailed by your new name. Whitethroat!" yowled Raggedstar, his head bent back to the sky.

A rush of anticipation flowed through Whitethroat's limbs, and he threw out his chest proudly. His mother Darkflower padded forward and pressed her nose to his cheek.

"Congratulations, my son. You make your father and I proud."

Whitethroat detected twinge of sorrow in her voice, and dim memories of his now dead brother flashed in his mind's eye.

Dawncloud purred happily and gave his ear a swift lick.

"I'm sure you'll make a fine warrior," she meowed, smiling.

"You too," Whitethroat replied, that familiar burn in his chest as he stared into her eyes. She was so beautiful… But she loved Cedarheart, and Whitethroat knew it. He didn't mind.

"Congratulations, Whitethroat!" mewed Littlecloud. He nodded to the new white warrior.

"Same to you. You'll be great in battle." Whitethroat blinked at Littlecloud, trying to show all of his gratitude toward the small tabby in that one gesture. After he had realized that Frogkit was truly gone, Whitethroat, then Whitekit, had been forced into friendship with the small warrior – he was glad of it now.

"You will sit vigil tonight and guard the camp," meowed Brokenstar, and dropped down from the Highmound.

"Come on, let's eat before our vigil," mewed Dawncloud, flicking her tail over Whitethroat's shoulder. A shiver crackled down his spine, and he followed her to the swollen fresh-kill pile. Since Rowanpaw had been apprenticed, their had always been more fresh-kill. She was the quickest, most intelligent hunter ShadowClan had ever seen…_lucky for us,_ thought Whitethroat. From what he knew, Fernpaw of ThunderClan was almost her equal.

"Come on, fox-ears. Let's eat!" barked Littlecloud, and Whitethroat realized that he had been standing there looking like a fool for quite some time.

Sheepishly, he padded forward and devoured a vole, before trotting to the center of the camp, sitting down, and tucking his paws beneath him to wait out the rest of the night.

0o0o00o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Whitethroat looked on in horror as Cinderfur convulsed once, twice, three times…and then was still. He barely heard Darkflower's agonized wail as he mate joined the ranks of StarClan, taken by the ravages of the sickness.

"Cinderfur…" she moaned, pressing her nose against his dark gray pelt.

Nightstar stood at his deputy's side, his eyes dull and listless. Whitethroat resisted the urge to claw the black elder's eyes out, and clenched his paws hard. He was glad that Brokenstar had finally been driven out, but Nightstar was no better a leader than he had been…and who else was fit to lead if the sickly black tom joined StarClan? Not he Whitethroat…certainly not. He didn't want it anymore than Littlecloud or Dawncloud. Rowanclaw, he supposed, but she was young. Blackfoot…

"Whitethroat! Pssst! C'mere!"

Whitethroat whipped around, his ears flickering.

"Here!" The voice was unmistakably Littlecloud's, coming from the bramble bush at the edge of the camp. Cautiously, Whitethroat padded towards him.

"What?" he hissed.

"We have to do something! We are all going to die if we don't find help!" cried the small tabby. Whitethroat's gut clenched. Finally he replied, "I know."

"Follow me, then."

Obediently, Whitethroat padded out of camp on Littlecloud's heels, though doubt prickled in his paws.

"Where are we going to go anyway?" he asked, when they had reached the ThunderClan border.

"ThunderClan," stated Littlecloud simply, and stretched his leg over the boundary.

"What?! Help from another Clan? ShadowClan doesn't need help from ThunderClan!" spat Whitethroat.

"Oh really? I know you're sick, Whitethroat. So am I, I can feel it beginning deep in my chest. If we don't seek help soon, we _will_ die. You know it as well as I do. Come one, the quicker the better."

Whitethroat couldn't argue. It was true, he had felt the weariness and numbing exhaustion that weighed on his shoulders, however hard he had tried to fight it, he knew. Though unease made his pelt stand on end, he followed Littlelcloud into ThunderClan territory.

0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

**Okay, you all know what happens here. They meet Cinderpelt, she lets them stay, she cures them, then she tells them to leave, and they do…don't they?**

0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Whitethroat followed Littlecloud across the stream in ThunderClan territory, enjoying the feeling of soft grass beneath his paws. Once again he let out a prayer of thanks to StarClan for sending them Cinderpelt. She had cured them, and he owed his life to her. He knew he would never forget.

Suddenly, as though a log had been pulled from beneath his paws, he tumbled to the ground, and felt a great weight crash down on top of him. The set of the cat flooded his scent glands, and he knew it immediately – Tigerclaw. He had seen the big cat before, at Gatherings, and had always admired his strength and dignity.

Tigerclaw batted at him firmly, but his claws were sheathed. He was making an awful lot of noise…then Whitethroat scented ThunderClan. Of course," he though, with a sinking feeling, he wants the patrol to find me on ThunderClan territory. But Tigerclaw did not leave when the patrol arrived. He sprung on the cats, and to Whitethroat's surprise, three other scrawny beats jumped out of the undergrowth after him – rogues, they looked like.

In one swift moment the patrol was scattered. Littlecloud was gone. Tigerclaw and his friends disappeared. And to Whitethroat's horror, a ThunderClan warrior lay limp on the ground at the edge of the Thunderpath.

Whitethroat crouched by his side, his eyes hot and guilt pricking his whiskers. This cat had died in a fight beside him – he did not even know his name.

He heard the ThunderClan cats approaching long before he saw them. When they arrived, relief washed over him as he saw Fireheart at the head of the patrol – the ginger warrior would understand.

"He's dead!" Whitethroat wailed, grief flooding from his eyes. He stumbled away from the body, sudden fatigue washing over him. He just wanted to sleep, to run away, to…to…Fireheart leapt at him, bowling him over into the dirt. Whitethroat did not protest, he no longer cared. Something had come over him, some strange feeling. StarClan awaited him. He would go to them willingly…

He could see the confusion in Fireheart's eyes as Whitethroat huddled beneath him, terror in his eyes. When Fireheart paused, Whitethroat darted away, into a bramble bush at the edge of the Thunderpath. He could hear Fireheart chasing after him, and he changed direction, dashing for the tunnel below the Thunderpath.

But before he reached it, he knew that Fireheart would catch him soon. He paused, poised at the edge of the Thunderpath, and looked back. Fireheart was sprinting towards him, it was now or never. With a rush of fear Whitethroat charged forward, panic rising in his chest. He scrambled blindly across the rough surface, feeling blood well up on his paw pads.

He did not hear the monster as it approached. He was too grasped by horror as he tried to cross the stinking gray turf. The foul smell swamped his senses, and he stumbled, tripped, fell…

He did not feel a thing when the monster hit him. He was detached from his body, as if floating in the clouds. Bu he was not dead. No certainly not dead. He could feel a trickle of breath in his lungs, and his eyelids fluttered. He shifted his weight, wincing as his ribs popped audibly.

"Why did you attack our patrol?" came Fireheart's anxious whisper. Whitethroat gathered his breath to reply, knowing they were the last words he would ever speak.

He opened his mouth, and a wave of stinking air rushed in. He blinked. A monster. He tried again. This time a thin river of blood dribbled from his mouth. He swallowed, sending a painful shudder down the length of his body. He could do it, he had to reply…

Then he saw him. Tigerclaw, crouched in the trees in ThunderClan territory, watching, waiting.

_No!!!_ wailed the floating portion of his body. _No! He will bring death to this forest! This cannot be!_ He could feel the power of StarClan flowing through his veins, and he tried, he _tried_ to warn Fireheart…but he couldn't. He could not utter a word. Tigerclaw…with one last desperate attempt, Whitethroat poured all the fear and hatred for that one cat into his eyes…and…yes! Fireheart saw.

As he was dragged away from the earth, pulled from his body, pulled from life, he saw Fireheart whirl around to face the tabby tom. The Clans were safe.

_Yes…yes…StarClan…father…Frogkit…I'm coming!_


	2. Whiteclaw

**This is a Whiteclaw oneshot. Enjoy.**

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Graypool was very proud of her first litter of kits. They were Crookedjaw's kits, the strong RiverClan deputy, and she was sure that they would grow up to be fine, tough warriors, like their father.

There were three – two she-kits and a tom. The first she-kit was silver, and the other was a pretty tortoiseshell. But the tom, he was very handsome. He was pure, snowy white, with black spots on his back and legs. He was larger than the she-kits too, with wide, brown eyes and a long tail.

She named them Whitekit, Silverkit, and Mosskit, knowing that the names would be good warrior names for when they grew older, and grow older they did – quickly.

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"Whitepaw? Whitepaw! _Whitepaw!_" screeched Whitepaw's mentor, Leopardfur, standing rigidly at the entrance to the RiverClan camp. Whitepaw started and looked around, blinking sleep from his eyes. He was curled in the apprentice's den, nestled between his sisters, Mosspaw and Silverpaw. He jumped to his feet, hurriedly giving himself a bath, and then sprinted out of the den, dreading what his mentor would say.

He adored Leopardfur, a new warrior who showed amazing potential as a warrior, but she could be very strict sometimes.

"How many times have I told you _not_ to be late!" She hissed as he approached and skidded to a stop beside her.

"I'm sorry, Leopardfur, Sootwhisker kept me up all night searching for ticks in her fur, I lost track of time and dozed off…"

"That's a poor excuse, my lazy apprentice," snapped Leopardfur. "Hopefully Sootwhisker won't have anymore ticks today, or you'll have to do her again, once you've finished with the _rest_ of the elders!"

Whitepaw didn't dare groan, but on the inside he was sighing like an old badger. Today as the third day in a row that he had been picking ticks out of the elders' fur, as punishment for being late. It seemed he was going to go on being late though, if he didn't get any sleep.

"But come, we've got to catch you up on your training or your sisters will be warriors before you. Today we're hunting squirrels."

Whitepaw listened attentively to her instructions as they padded silently through the forest, soaking up every word like a dry ball of moss. When they reached the clearing, he was prepared to try out the new technique. He crouched down, his weight on his back legs, his tail straight out for balance, and waited until he spotted a squirrel scuffling in the undergrowth.

With a mental growl, he shot off through the leaves, being as silent as he possibly could. The squirrel was alerted a fraction of a second too late, and as it turned to scamper away, Whitepaw brought his outstretched paw down on his tail, and finished it off with a swift bite to the neck. He snatched it up and carried the prey proudly back to his mentor.

Leopardfur purred as he dropped the squirrel at her feet. "Very well done. Perhaps you may be excused from your duty tonight. Come, let us hunt now for the Clan, and see how may more squirrels you can catch. They spent the rest of the day hunting, and returned to camp laden with prey.

"Whitepaw!" Mosspaw cried when he returned to camp, carrying a mouthful of squirrels and mice. "Wow! That's a lot of prey!"

Whitepaw nodded smugly and dropped the pieces of fresh-kill onto the pile. "Leopardfur and I hunted for the Clan all day, and I'm excused from elder duty tonight!"

Mosspaw purred enthusiastically. "That's great. Well done."

"I'm going to be the very best warrior that there ever was in RiverClan – someday I'll be deputy too."

Mosspaw grinned. "Okay!" She leaped at him and boxed his ears playfully, before he jumped onto her back and they rolled around together in the dirt. Silverpaw joined them when she returned from hunting, and they all played until they were far too exhausted to continue fighting each other.

The three siblings grabbed a piece of fresh-kill from the pile, and then went to sleep, well-fed and happy.

0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Whitepaw felt excitement coursing through his veins. He sat beside his sisters, beneath the Highstone, awaiting Brownstar's announcement. The rest of RiverClan was crowded around them, anticipation flowing amongst the assembly.

"Cats of RiverClan, today is a very special day. Today, one of our most beloved apprentices is to receive his warrior name. Whitepaw, please step forward."

Whitepaw shivered and stepped forward, glancing back at his sisters. Silverpaw gave him a nod of encouragement, and Mosspaw flicked her tail at him, urging him forward. He padded to Brownstar's feet, hardly able to sit still.

"Whitepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code, even at the cost of you life?"

"I do," Whitepaw meowed, his heart practically bursting from his chest.

"Then I give you your warrior name. Whiteclaw, I commend you to StarClan as a warrior in your turn."

"Whiteclaw! Whiteclaw! Whiteclaw!" The Clan cheered, and Whiteclaw picked out his father's deep voice in the multitude of sound.

_Father, I will make you proud,_ he said to Crookedjaw in his mind, knowing that in some way, the deputy could hear.

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Whiteclaw was racing across the hard packed earth, faster and faster, relishing the sound of his Clanmates paws beside his, and the screeching battle cry echoing from Leopardfur's throat. Brownstar had died just a moon ago, and Crookedstar had succeeded him, making Stonefur his deputy. Whiteclaw was proud to go to battle as the leader's son, with his sister Silverpaw at his side.

The RiverClan warriors broke like a flood upon the group of ThunderClan and WindClan cats, ripping, slashing, and yowling their defiance of this intrusion.

Whiteclaw flung himself headlong into the throng, tearing with his sharp teeth at whoever's fur came within his reach. He charged at a skinny WindClan tom, slamming the cat into the muddy ground with the force of a thousand tree-branches, screeching and hissing. The tom struggled and then gave in, and Whiteclaw let the cat up, allowing him to sprint away across the moors. _Coward! You know that RiverClan will win this battle._

Whiteclaw unleashed his fury on second cat, sending them away screaming in pain. With satisfaction he bent to clean his paws, watching as his sister and her friend battered at another apprentice. He wanted so badly for Silverpaw to be a warrior like him, but Crookedstar hadn't yet deemed her fit for her warrior name.

Whiteclaw suddenly felt strong paws ram into his side, and looked curiously up into the eyes of a large gray ThunderClan apprentice. With annoyance, Whiteclaw scrabbled to his feet and struck back, catching the tom on the side of his head.

They battled back and forth, and Whiteclaw had to admit that the apprentice was very strong, but he knew that if he really wanted to, he could finish off the long-furred gray tom before he could squeal for mercy.

But Whiteclaw never got the chance. He hadn't been paying any attention to where he put his paws, until all of a sudden, when he placed his left hind-leg on what he thought was solid ground, he felt himself slipping into nothingness. With a jolt of alarm, he realized that he had stepped off the edge of the gorge.

Whiteclaw twisted around and looked up into the panicked eyes of the gray apprentice. "No!" the cat wailed, watching in horror as Whiteclaw slipped on the muddy bank, falling into the gorge.

He saw Leopardfur appear at the edge and reach out a paw – he tried to grab it, he tried to just catch the tip of her paw, but it was too late. Before Whiteclaw could even meow goodbye to is beloved, and forgive the brave apprentice who, hew knew, hadn't meant to cause his death, his head was swallowed up by the roiling waters of the river, never to be seen again.

_Goodbye, Silverpaw, Mosspaw, mother, father. Father, I hope that I have made you proud. I was a good warrior, Father. I served you well, but StarClan beckons. Thank the Clan for me, Father. I'll see you again someday._


End file.
